I couldnít finish this. I just couldnít. I tried my best, but after 7 tracks, my head was gradually beginning to cave inwardly. Good grief. Each track is mounded with exhausting repetition and a desperately smug colloquialism which drove me potty. After the 7th track, where he spent a good few minutes repeating the same line, I had to switch it off and never return. What I did hear, I didnít really get. It appeared to be a concoction of 90ís Britpop, 50ís twelve bar Blues and some form of haughty, grating Folk; all this is combined with some galling, condescending humour which drew me to an instant comparison to that Curious George soundtrack by Jack Johnson, about learning ABCís and being friends with flowers or something equally guff. There was a lyric about ďThe best thing about a country is the people not the placesĒ which I consider to be my last straw with this record. I would have binned it sooner if I wasnít riding my bike at the time. So unless you want to listen to Terrorvision fronted by some evangelist primary school motivational speaker, Iíd heartily suggest you stay away from this one.